


Try to Celebrate the Present

by Chasing_Crows



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Christmas, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forduary, Hanukkah, Holidays, M/M, Pillow Talk, Science Boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chasing_Crows/pseuds/Chasing_Crows
Summary: Forduary 2021 week two - fluff and angstThoughts of Ford's family trouble him at night, and cuddles from Fiddleford are the only thing that can help.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Try to Celebrate the Present

Without his glasses he couldn’t see the alarm clock on the bedside shelf, but the still dark sky told Ford morning wasn’t in a hurry. Final exams were over, but even after that weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he was anxious. With no school to distract him and the holidays in full swing, his family entered his thoughts more than normal. His mind couldn’t settle, and in an attempt to relax, he turned over and got closer to Fiddleford. They had shoved the twin beds of their dorm together to make one they could share, and on nights like this he was more grateful than usual for that decision.

Ford shifted to rub his eyes, and in doing so accidentally bumped his boyfriend. Fiddleford groaned. Ford held his breath and hoped he would go back to sleep, but he gave a few bleary blinks instead. “Stanford?”

“It’s the middle of the night- go back to sleep.”

“If you say so,” and Fiddleford bent closer to kiss his cheek. “Stanford, are you cryin’?” Fiddleford brought a hand to Ford’s face and wiped away tears he wasn’t aware of.

“What- no? I just can’t sleep. It’s nothing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he said. “Well, since I’m awake now too, commere,” and he propped himself up on his pillow and opened his arms. Like a child, Ford couldn’t help but hug his partner’s waist and bury his face in his tee shirt. One of Fiddleford’s hands rubbed his back, and the other stroked his hair. “Stanford, you wanna talk about it?”

“About what? Everything’s fine.”

Fiddleford gave him a squeeze. “Aw, come on, I know you’ve got somethin’ on your mind.”

“It’s nothing, it’s just late.”

“Hmmm, usually takes a little more than nothin’ to get someone to cry.”

Ford pushed Fiddleford away and curled on his side, his back to his boyfriend. He was upset and tired, and he was not in the mood for a heart to heart. Ford had told Fiddleford next to nothing about his family in their time together. It was too complicated, too messy, and it brought up too much pain for him to want to share. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his partner, but he just wanted to leave them in his past and move forward on his own.

“Stanford, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” A tentative hand found Ford’s shoulder, and he didn’t shift away. Fiddleford was only trying to help, after all, and Ford couldn’t stay mad at him for long when he was doing his best.

“Sorry, Fidds. I just can’t clear my mind. I’m fine.” He rolled back to face him and burrowed deeper under the covers.

“Okay, do you wanna try and sleep, or should I stay up with you?”

Ford paused. “Will you stay with me?”

Fiddleford kissed his forehead. “Absolutely.” He got closer to Ford so he could hold him again, and Ford was no longer sorry for waking him.

His visits home had become few and far between over the last couple years, and he was fine with that. He didn’t want to see his father, and Shermie seemed to be a new person each time he saw him, rapidly changing from baby to toddler to boy. He did miss his mother, but he couldn’t justify seeing her if it meant suffering the company of his father and struggling with the awkwardness of his baby brother.

And then there was Stan.

“What if I failed,” he blurted out.

Fiddleford laughed, “awww, what makes you say that? Exams are over, silly goose. Besides, you and I both know that would never happen. I’d bet good money you’re the hardest workin’ student at this whole school.”

“Yeah, well, the students of Backupsmore are hardly any competition.”

Fiddleford nudged him. “Hey, I’m here, after all! What are you sayin’- that I’m some kinda slacker?”

Ford smiled and nudged back. “Like I said, hardly any competition.”

Ford had always been academically ahead of Stan, and even though Stan was more charismatic, strong, and confident than his twin, Ford’s higher grades made adults treat him like he was better than his brother. Stan tried hard to please those around him, to make them see his good qualities, but without trying or wanting to, Ford’s shadow loomed over him despite his most earnest efforts. He feared he was the only one who believed in Stan, besides maybe their mother, and when Stan was cast out, Ford did nothing. Stan didn’t deserve what happened to him, Ford saw too late, and as the one person who could have helped, Ford became a bigger failure than anyone ever thought Stan was. Was Stan better off on his own where he could live as himself and not be seen as just second best?

“Anyhow,” said Fiddleford, “you can’t do anythin’ about it, so stop worryin’ and enjoy this time off.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You’ll get your flawless report card back just in time for Christmas; it’ll be the perfect present.”

“You remember I don’t celebrate Christmas, right?”

“Well, I do, and I love it more than enough for the two of us, so there’s nothin’ you can do about it.”

Ford’s family had celebrated Hanukkah growing up. It was always a small celebration, but it was something to look forward to when they were kids. Stan and Ford delighted each night as a new flame was added to the menorah, and Stan would compete with him to see who could eat more Sufganiyah donuts their mother would buy. Now, though, Hanukkah time made him feel hollow, so when it approached on the calendar he pretended not to notice. In fact, Ford hadn’t celebrated any holidays since being on his own.

Fiddleford’s pure, childlike excitement for Christmas worried Ford in an opposite way from his own holiday woes, though. Celebrating was clearly a big deal for him, and he didn’t want to rob him of that experience. “Fidds… are you sure you won’t miss being home for Christmas? Don’t you want to see your family?”

“Stanford, I’ve told you a million times. If you’re stayin’ here for break, I’m not gonna leave you all alone. I told my family I have work here, and, well…” he sighed. “I wanna spend this Christmas as us, and we wouldn’t be able to do that with my folks. They’re good people… just-”

“Yeah, I get it. I just want you to be sure.” His partner nodded, and Ford accepted Fiddleford’s choice. Still, this was his first Christmas apart from his family, and Ford felt guilty for any possible homesickness he might be having, for any longing to be with his family. He wanted to help, but he was also stuck in the position of being someone who had never celebrated Christmas at all. Besides giving presents and going to church, Ford didn’t know what traditions might be important to Fiddleford. He cleared his throat. “Uhh, Fidds?”

“Mhm?”

“What, uhhh, what exactly do you want to do for Christmas here?”

Fiddleford made a small, excited gasp, and Ford envisioned the gears were turning in his head. “Well, we can use the TV in the lounge to see if there are any specials on, and I have a copy of A Christmas Carol we can read… oh, and we should have cake! I dunno how traditional it is, but we’ve always had the most beautiful cakes on Christmas.”

Growing up, their mother would make him and Stan a cake each year for their birthday. She couldn’t bake particularly well, but with a yellow box mix and canned chocolate frosting, she was able to put together something halfway serviceable. The boys didn’t care if the frosting was unevenly spread or if it slumped to one side; they would blow out the candles in the evening and have the cake disappear by next day’s lunch.

“Okay, I can get on board with cake. We can get one from the grocery store, or isn’t there a fancy bakery a few miles away we could investigate?”

Fiddleford nodded. “Yes, I think the bakery would be best. If we’re gonna have Christmas cake, we might as well go all out.”

“What kind do you have on Christmas?”

“Oh, any kind! Last year was almond with dark chocolate ganache, the year before was lemon with double layers of vanilla and raspberry frostin’…”

“I think I’m starting to understand. So, what do we do this year?”

“Whatever we want! You have a preference?”

Ford raised the palms of his hands to Fiddleford. “Hey, it’s your holiday- you decide.”

“I don’t have the whole holiday to myself, silly, and even if it is ‘mine’, it’s going to be _our_ cake.”

“Hmmm, I guess I’m with anything as long as it’s not basic. If we’re going to have a McGucket Christmas, we might as well try to do it right. No plain chocolate, vanilla, or anything like that, I’d say.”

“Now you’re gettin’ the hang of it!” The tip of Fiddleford’s tongue pressed his upper lip in concentration. “Stanford, is chocolate cake okay if we get it with peanut butter frostin’?”

Ford grinned. “Any excuse to feed your addiction, huh?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault peanut butter’s the perfect food.”

“I think you could live off the stuff the way you eat it by the spoonful- what’s your record for most PB&Js in one day anyway?”

“I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Ford’s fingers found his boyfriend’s sides, and he began to tickle. “Does this jog your memory?”

Fiddleford fought off laughter, but as Ford’s energy intensified, he couldn’t help but let a few giggles escape. “No, Stanford- stop it! I don’t want the neighbors to hear!”

He continued. “Was it five? Six?”

Or wait, was that Stan’s record of double-decker bologna sandwiches eaten in one sitting?

When Ford let up, Fiddleford relented, “two for breakfast, two for lunch, two for supper, and two for a midnight snack. The bread was gonna go bad if I didn’t eat it up, and I was too busy studyin’ to go to the cafeteria anyhow.”

“No, I think you’ll just jump at any opportunity to feed the five year old within.”

“Well, you already agreed to the cake, so don’t be surprised when I have three slices in a row.”

“Yeah, well,” Ford stifled a yawn, “I bet I can eat four.”

“Mhm, okay. Sounds like someone’s finally gettin’ sleepy again.”

Ford stuck his tongue out, but he let his eyelids fall as he relaxed against Fiddleford. They stayed like that until Fiddleford was gently snoring, and Ford tried to focus on the rhythm of his breathing instead of his thoughts. Stan still haunted the back of his mind, and he clung tighter to his boyfriend, trying to look ahead to Christmas so he could replace the sadness of the past with the comfort of the present.


End file.
